The Line Recreated
by Abyss the Hedgehog
Summary: This is not a story of a Creator, nor is it a story of a Creation. This is a story of a man ruined, rebuilt and broken once more; who walked through Hell, returned its gaze and suffered for it. This is a story of a soldier who wanted to be a hero and became a villain instead; the boogeyman of Dubai. What will he do, thrown into the land where gods of pleasure are?
1. Gentleman, Welcome to Tokyo

„Gentlemen... welcome to Dubai."

Somehow, these words were fitting to the situation at hand. Here he was, having slaughtered his way through the people who were supposed to come for him, to rescue him and bring him back home. Konrad was wrong; he could not go back. He could never go back.

More would come, he was certain of it. These could not kill him, could not bring his suffering to end, but more would come. He was now a villain, a murderer, an AWOL Delta Force operative... the opposite of what he wanted to be.

After Falcon One would come Falcon Two, Three, Four... they would run out of numbers before long. He dropped the radio, ignoring the distressed cries of the HQ and turned to leave, venturing back into the dusty Dubai. Really, it was more likely that the hunger and starvation would get to him first rather than a bullet.

Such was the end of Cpt. Martin Walker, or so it's been said. After the rainstorm crashed over the ruined Dubai, all searches were cut short for its duration. The relief rescue force came over to try and salvage what was left of the ruined city, save anyone who could still be saved. They'd even found some success in saving some of the survivors from the sheer degree of chaos that was Dubai. Walker, however, hasn't been heard from since. The authorities in charge assumed he simply succumbed to the harsh conditions and ceased to look for a body. Some groups were sent in secrecy to try and secure the man in question, but they always seemed to come up short of finding any traces of Walker's presence. It felt like he vanished into thin air.

A soldier missing here and there was left undiscussed. It could have been the locals, likely furious with the US, the Damned 33rd and their earlier rule of the post-apocalyptic Dubai. Perhaps the elements claimed him. The notion that a man half-dead and too desperate to imagine would be the perpetrator was not something the officials wanted leaked out to the public. Containing the clusterfuck was hard enough already.

The rogue Delta Force operative was never found.

* * *

Every time Walker was plagued with doubt, a single thought came back to reassure him: he did his best.

It proved fruitless; they didn't get to save anyone, but the deplorable 33rd had been destroyed and Konrad – put down. A consolation prize that nobody would honor. After all, a more grave threat emerged in its place, or so would everybody think.

Sometimes it felt like it didn't matter and sometimes it felt like it mattered a lot. Scrounging through the remains of Dubai was hard enough without the doubt creeping in now and then. He was a hero, he played his part, he did all he could. It wasn't his fault stars aligned the way they did. Konrad being dead and 33rd being uncooperative were just things he was not prepared for. How could he?

Perhaps it was everybody around him who was crazy and he was the sole sane person remaining. It sure felt that way sometimes. It would feel, at least, if there was anyone to talk to. As far as he knew, Dubai was deserted. He was the sole survivor. Whoever was left alive had likely escaped during the rainstorm or had hidden deep inside the confines of the city, as far away as they could.

Some solitude is nice, Walker wanted to think. Really, at this point he wouldn't mind stumbling upon even a corpse if nothing else.

Eventually, the exhaustion caught up with him. Wandering aimlessly around the ruins was not doing any good for him. At this point perhaps it was a time to get it over with and put a bullet through his skull? But then again, he could have done that before all of this happened, before he donned Konrad's clothes. He dreamed of nothing. There were no dreams left for a man like him.

* * *

The sun felt different. There was no biting wind. No sand scratching at his skin. He didn't dare open his eyes; as far as he knew it could have just been a hallucination. Or maybe he was dead. Walker wasn't sure which option is worse.

At the same time he felt... refreshed? Healthier, for sure. Nothing ached, there were no burns or wounds. He patched himself up after a night at Konrad's place, but not like this. He was as clean as day, as clean as when he was just entering the Dubai. Finally, he opened his eyes, checking for damage. No bruises, no cuts, no bullet wounds. All the equipment of a Delta Force operator was in place. The place itself was displaced however.

This was not Dubai. This was nowhere Walker was familiar with. He seemed to be in some dark alleyway, right by the dumpster – appropriate – but that was all he could tell. There was a skyscraper in the distance? That, and a lot of noise. City noise. Felt like he haven't heard that in forever. He could make out a sign though the language on it eluded him. It was strangely vertical however.

His vision cleared a little as he stood up, wary to just step out of the alleyway into an unknown territory. He was here on his own, and this place really could be anything. Maybe it was Hell and things would go to shit the moment he stepped out into light? The surroundings would change, the demons would pop out, the fires would blaze... after the shitstorm that was Dubai, Walker wouldn't put anything as impossible.

To reinforce that theory, something just exploded nearby. One of the skyscrapers' windows exploded into glass and fire. He could catch a glimpse of someone leaving through there. Whoever the unfortunate bastard was, they were likely beyond help. Not that he felt like going out there. The last time he tried to help people, it was met with a lukewarm reception. Plus, the fact stood that he was still in the unknown. It was one thing exploring what was thought to be a dead city with two squadmates to keep your back safe and another walking into the bustling city in full gear. Worst case scenario, he would have local law enforcers on his ass before he could say "I come in peace".

There was some shouting. The language, if Walker were to take a shot, seemed to be Japanese. It made sense; the signs were famously vertical in Japan cities to accommodate for what little place was there. Assuming that hypothesis was correct, why was he in Japan? Was there some part he wasn't getting here? "Could kill for a Lugo right now..." He muttered to himself, half-heartedly. It seemed like just the type of joke the sergeant would say.

No matter. Whatever the hell was happening there, that wasn't his fight. For now all he had to do was...

…

...what was there to do? Survive? Find some US Army outpost for answers? Search for radio frequencies? He's been thrown into a completely different world, good as new – at least physically – and right in the middle of Japan for no reason other than petty spite of the universe. There was no mission, no squadmates to check on, no villain to dispose of... Walker had nothing to do. The notion only now came to him; he was a free man. There was no forgetting Dubai and things he did, but as far as everybody was concerned he was outside of jurisdiction. His name was likely known to the people sent to retrieve him and the people in charge of those people, but otherwise he could live the rest of his guilt-filled days if he just stayed a little bit cautious. He could pick up the language, teach some dumb kids PE or something like that, the works.

Yeah, right, like that would work out. All he had were the clothes on his back, the rifle in his hands and the sense of dread that once he steps out, things would go to pot once again. There was no way he could just stroll into a pawn shop to get some of the equipment off his back. Hell, he had no idea where a pawn shop would even be in this godforsaken place.

Perhaps the best course of action was to lay low for the time being. Wait for the night, then sneak through the alleyways. Walker ignored the subsequent tremors, explosions and more of Japanese being slung about. This wasn't his fight. This time he would not walk into shit that could be avoided just by saying stop.

This wasn't his fight.

* * *

Moving around was harder than Walker thought, even at nighttime.

He kept to the alleyways, but even then, the people were everywhere. He avoided contact, yet it seemed like it was inevitable to try and hide in the crowd eventually. The people were everywhere, and it was freaking him out.

After the Dubai op went to pot, Walker hoped that any human contact would be kept to absolute bare minimum and the number of contacts reduced to near-zero. At the same time he yearned for some. He wasn't sure why; he was as likely to shoot the other side as to try and talk to them. Now, however, it felt like a nightmare. The people in the streets were everywhere, like cockroaches. Men and women, young and old, locals and tourists... the variety was astounding, and in some ways scary. These were all civilians, a breed that he hasn't seen in normal circumstances since... a long time ago.

How _long_ were they in Dubai anyway...? No matter.

Eventually, he decided to try and melt into the crowd. He'd seen his fair share of people in costumes ranging from weird to outright ridiculous, so an ACU wouldn't be that strange to see. Of course, he had to disassemble his rifle first, but – as he tangled into the crowd – nobody was giving him a second thought. A couple of kids pointed at him, talking between themselves in Japanese, but it didn't seem like they did anything else but admire the costume. Hopefully, Walker thought, or this might get messy real fast.

It seemed like he was lucky. Nobody took further attention of him, thank God, and he was free to head towards less populated areas. Once the neons stopped showing up and illuminating everything they could, he relaxed a little, preferring the company of shadows. Walker took a moment to piece his rifle back together – everything was good as new and there was no sand getting everywhere – then resumed the slow, unsure trek towards... well, anywhere where he could lay low for a bit and think. An abandoned building, some warehouse hall or something like that would do just fine. Really, anywhere that could offer a modicum of privacy would be fine.

A scream caught his attention. The old instincts kicked in and Walker pushed his back against the nearby fence, peering cautiously from behind there. Slowly, he approached the scene, applying a silencer to the rifle. Something told him that he would have to use it in short order.

There they were; three men – two middle-aged white-collars and one younger one – accosting a woman. Her clothing seemed to suggest a co-worker of the three. The surroundings were dark, sleepy, lawless. Perfect for three inebriated salarymen to make moves on their colleague. If what Walker heard was true – Lugo liked to ramble on topics most various, especially before the mission – odds were that the three would avoid punishment, perhaps get a fine for noise complaints. The woman would be unlikely to defend herself in court, and if she tried, things would become so much worse for her; she would lose her job or be blackmailed by the three.

The youngest of the three forced himself on top of the woman; they were on the ground now, with the other two looming over the imminent rape. Walker took a deep breath. This wasn't his fight.

...but he needed some target practice.

He came from behind the fence like a shadow, the rifle trained on his targets. They were too busy congratulating themselves on a job well done to notice – or to even suspect – that death was coming. First came the middle-aged man on the left, collapsing after the shot hit his throat dead-on. He gurgled on the ground, hands frantically trying to stem the bleeding, but it was to no avail. The other middle-aged man didn't seem to understand what was going on, likely thinking that his pal just lost consciousness from the liquor. His ticket came next and he fell a moment later in the same fashion. The silencer ensured that nobody recognized that they were being shot at.

The last man sobered up quickly and decided that his primal urges weren't worth it; bolting off the woman with his pants hanging about his ankles. Even if they were buttoned and tugged up however, he couldn't dream of dodging a shot from a Delta Force operator. One "THWIMP!" later, he fell on the ground with a bullet right in his back.

* * *

Uehara Michiko's day could only be summed up as terrible.

It was bad enough that her co-workers were hitting on her the entire karaoke. They were getting way too handsy for it to be comfortable. Tenma-kun, her peer and her friend, did his best to ward them off her, but as it turned out, he was in league with them all along; once they've walked deep into the alleyway, all this started.

She knew this was liquor that made them act like this – she drank some of it too – but it wasn't fun nor was it comfortable. They were about to rape her, and Tenma-kun would be the first to do so. But then...

Then they died. First came Yamamoto-san, her manager. She suddenly felt something dropping on her wrist, something liquid. Blood. Distracted with Tenma-kun on top of her she could only catch a moment where the manager dropped on the ground. Then came Owata-san's turn, and he died the same way. Tenma-kun stood up and ran off in a haste, but then she heard the same dull sound that signaled the deaths of her superiors. Still sprawled on the ground, she could only see upside-down as he fell down face-first into the road. For a moment there was nothing but silence as she scrambled to a sit, her skirt and shirt still in disarray.

There was no mistaking it. They were quite dead, as far as Michiko could tell. Shot in cold blood by an unknown assailant. Whoever that was, they didn't shoot her, so this was simply... an execution of rapists, she caught herself thinking before she shook her head fervently. No, no, these were h-her friends... c-colleagues. What they've done was wrong and repulsive, and frankly she wasn't sure if she could forgive them, but to kill them was too much! What about their children? Their wives? Their families?

Somebody emerged from the shadows. Michiko's eyes widened when she saw the man carrying a still-smoking rifle. He looked like a Westerner and his clothes were soldier's clothes. Was he an American? And what was wrong with his eyes? They were like wells full of ice-cold water; to look would be to die a horrible death.

He ignored her, making his way to the bodies of her co-workers. He began searching through, swiping away the wallets of Yamamoto-san and Owata-san. She just sat there, a chill of dread running down her spine. Something about this soldier was wrong, so horribly wrong, but she couldn't tell exactly what. His search was quick, then he made his way to where Tenma-kun lied. Something in Michiko clicked the wrong way and she scrambled to her feet, standing between the soldier and her friend's body.

"You can't! Please, not him! I... that's wrong!" She wasn't sure what she was saying really, but it didn't seem like the soldier did not understand her. No, he didn't even acknowledge her beyond shoving her out of the way. The shove was strong enough to have her stumble back on the ground again. "Why...?"

The soldier did not acknowledge her. He simply grabbed Tenma-kun's wallet as well as his cellphone and his watch before finally turning over to look at Michiko. The woman felt her heart's beating stop almost to a crawl. She finally understood why was this man so strange, so wrong. The secret was in his eyes.

Those were the eyes of someone who stared into Hell, and Hell stared right back at him.

"...why?" She asked again through her tears. This time there was no further answer. The soldier simply walked away, as if he didn't just kill three people. Michiko thought that for this man, killing was like breathing.

* * *

Some part of Walker felt bad for the woman. She was clearly distraught after he walked in. No matter. Nobody was going to believe her anyway, and he was not planning on venturing anywhere for the time being. Any news outrage and a hypothetical investigation he could likely ignore as long as he was holed up somewhere remote.

He was packed with some MRE and he was certain he could buy something in one of the vending machines he spotted on his way to a possible hideout. The salarymen's wallets were ripe enough to him. A start as good as any. For his sleep location he decided to choose an abandoned warehouse; one of the many in the complex. It looked like there wasn't a soul in here. If any homeless or vagabonds planned to sleep here, well, he could likely pretend to be one as well. This seemed like far too away from actual life however, so Walker was hopeful that he would be the sole resident.

...funny, it felt a little like Dubai. Just without all the sand.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound of rustling. He trained the rifle at where the sound came from in a flash. Somebody else was in here. The shape in the shadows was vaguely humanoid and slowly filled out with color as the figure emerged from the dark. Walker frowned, keeping the gun trained on her.

The woman was young – couldn't be older than 25, and even that seemed like much – and dressed in a costume far more elaborate than he had seen on the streets before. It looked like a military uniform of old; a double-breasted coat – with a high collar - with a red scarf across the torso transitioned into a long skirt. She also had a cavalryman's cap on, doing a poor job at hiding the absolute mane of white hair behind her. Behind her was also a selection of cavalry sabers, idly floating in the air, slowly forming around her into a protective circle of blades.

That her eyes had double irises -one red and the other, smaller, blue and square inside the first one – was just a cherry on top. In front of him stood _something_ , but it definitely wasn't human.

The cavalry woman smiled. "Welcome to the realm of gods, Captain Walker."

* * *

 **So this is a new fic I'm writing. Basically, I saw the idea at TVTropes, shuddered, then came back to it.**

 **Re:Creators has an enormous crossover potential, almost as big as F/SN – if not bigger. Thus, I decided that giving this a go could be fun for both me and the readers, since this is unlikely to be the typical course. Go ahead, review and comment and await the next chapter. :)**


	2. Creations and Men

The woman most definitely addressed him. He could recognize his name – bastardized, but nonetheless. Of course, everything else was lost on him.

He kept the rifle trained on her all this time, stare focused on the center of mass as well as the swords floating idly. Any semblance of normalcy just went up in flames the moment this military lady showed up, and Walker was already sick of its lack.

She frowned before speaking again. Her speech sounded flowery and again he caught her addressing him by name, but the language barrier was still in the way. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't speak Japanese." He replied flatly. The gun was still trained on her in case she perceived him speaking as an insult. For a moment there was nothing but silence until the swords of the cavalry woman slowly floated down and embedded themselves in the asphalt floor as if it was hot butter. Something to watch out for, Walker thought.

For now however his attention was on the woman who, unusually for herself – not that he could know – was feeling particularly sheepish. To think something like a language barrier would prevent her from coming into contact with this man? She spoke with no problem to the others, allies or enemies, but this man was an exception. Perhaps the reason was that the medium he came from was explicitly not made in Japan. That was Military Uniform Princess' hypothesis.

Well, no matter. Perhaps one of the others spoke English. For now she had to get this man's attention and subsequent trust so he would follow her. No easy feat. Funnily enough, perhaps the best way for that was to just leave and either wait for him to follow or simply come back with someone capable, whoever that would be. The pregnant silence continued for quite some time before she decided to follow the plan and simply leave.

Walker slowly lowered the gun and approached the place where the blades embedded themselves into the floor. He wasn't hallucinating; there were holes left there. Either the hallucination was that bad or he just met something actually supernatural. Maybe he was dreaming all this time and all that happened since he "woke up" in Japan was nothing but a made-up coping mechanism?

She really left. Would she come back? Should he change his location for tonight? Something told him that the military woman would find him anyway. Before he could gather any thoughts however, the cavalrywoman was back already; and this time she had company.

* * *

Kirameki Mamika, also known as Magical Slayer Mamika, was having a really bad day.

First came the revelation that she is a fictional character. Second was the even worse revelation that her attacks are so... destructive in this new world of "gods of pleasure", as Military Uniform Princess put it. The collateral damage, the damage inflicted upon this Celesia woman, all the explosions and destruction... it shook her.

And now she was meant to translate for a new person that appeared recently. She knew some English – part of her school's curriculum – but at the same time she wasn't _that_ confident. Plus, Military Uniform Princess asked that she omits a few details during questions, most chiefly that this man is a fictional being like them. As she claimed, it was for his own good. Mamika wasn't sure why that would help, but the girl in a military uniform gave her no reason to not believe her yet, so she was willing to go along with the plan.

The man, however, was nothing she expected. His look and posture were different from others she had seen, allies and enemies alike. His clothing was plain, befitting of a soldier, and there wasn't any flair to it whatsoever. Even Mr. Blitz's coat was more colorful and fancy than this. He regarded her with understandable caution, but there was something in his eyes that rattled Mamika to her very core. The deep blue orbs seemed like two particularly painful flashlights, as if they belonged to some otherworldly creature and not a seemingly normal person. As normal as Creations go, at least.

He was scary, scary on a completely different level than the usual enemies she faced. "Um... g-good evening..." She started, her English heavily accented. The soldier raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. At least he lowered the gun. "My name is... Mamika. Um... I will translate."

"Thank God somebody speaks English in here." The soldier spoke and the magical girl almost jumped, hearing how... odd his voice was. It was as if he was chewing gravel all day, but there was also some tired resignation to it, as if he just wanted this whole ordeal to be done with. She couldn't let herself be intimidated; after all, only she could converse with him. "Get on with it then. What does that lady want with me?" Mamika asked the princess the question, and the princess replied without a pause.

"Welcome to... uh... the world of gods of pleasure, Captain Martin Walker."

"Okay, first? Enough of the cryptic bullshit." The swear made Mamika flinch. Despite that, it seemed that the soldier was not paying much attention to her; his eyes were set on Military Uniform Princess. "You" Again, he explicitly pointed his finger at the mane of silver hair. "have your translator answer all of my questions, no strings attached." Mamika translated accordingly. This was certainly a tense stand-off.

Yet, the silver-maned princess remained nonplussed with the solider's aggressive response. If anything, the magical girl could have sworn that she was smiling a little wider now. "Um... what questions do you have, W-walker-san?"

"First: where the hell are we? None of that "gods of pleasure" shit though, I want a name of the city, the country, the year." Military Uniform Princess replied truthfully to the first two and skipped the answer to the third, unaware – and uncaring – of it. "Alright. Second then; why am I here?" Yes, that was indeed a difficult question to answer. She couldn't just tell him that she brought him here for her convenience, seeing potential in a man who lost everything. That would turn him hostile at worst, and then she would have to put him down like a rabid dog he was.

But even rabid dogs had their uses. "You were brought here through the rift in time." Meanwhile, Mamika was really grateful that her curriculum included advanced English to keep up with all the big words Princess used. "That is the doing of the gods – the people who populate this world."

"Gods?" The soldier made a vaguely disapproving noise. "I haven't heard a dumber thing in forever." Mamika flinched a little again, but she wasn't sure of the reason behind that; his attitude or the Princess' unnervingly polite smile.

"Such is the way of things. These gods hold powers of creation. Mamika here is-um, I mean, I'm one such creation." The magical girl quickly corrected herself, an embarrassed blush on her face. The soldier raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "As you probably know, people look for action, blood and tears in a given medium. It would make for a boring story if a hero never faced adversity, wouldn't it?"

"So what, you're meaning to tell me that I'm a fictional character?" The magical girl flinched slightly, but it seemed to have missed his attention.

"No, you are not. My hypothesis is that the emergence of Creations in the world of Creators caused some sort of rift in the multiverse." The cavalry princess gestured towards the soldier. "You came through one such rift, Captain Walker; a man of duty who only wished to be a hero."

"I'm not going through that song and dance again." Walker replied with a sneer. If his cold eyes could freeze, the silver-maned princess would have suffered from most terrible frostbites twice over. "If you think you can butter me up into doing whatever shit you're up to, you've got another thing coming. I'm done with heroism."

"O-oh, no. Nothing like that." The man seemed incredibly bitter to Mamika and she feared that she would somehow learn the reasons behind this hatred, the sheer scale of his contempt for the fellow man. "If you want to help, it will only be by your own choice."

"Are we done here then?"

"I would only like you to consider. There is another faction out there; one that is more likely to shoot first and ask questions later." Celesia, a girl in a mage's robe... the delinquent in shades, too. This must have been the faction Military Uniform Princess referred to. "Especially in light of recent developments."

"How do you know?" Mamika was lost. It seemed that the princess and the soldier were making a whole new conversation right next to this one. The air shifted again; he was cautious and she was silently triumphant.

"I have my ways. You can be assured the news will be over all media stations before long." _What_ did this man do? Each word that the magical girl translated seemed to be that much more difficult for her to say. "You might find yourself being hunted, Captain Walker." The silence persisted for a few tense moments before Military Uniform Princess simply turned around and gestured at Mamika to come along. "E-er, goodnight, Mr. Walker." The pinkette nervously nodded and joined the girl in the military cap.

* * *

The next day was mostly uneventful.

Walker was not pestered by either the woman in the military cap or her pink minion, opting to spend the whole day within the ruins. He was already used to long days with nothing to do but ponder, though this time the conditions were more tolerable. Some small part of him felt he was even being spoiled.

He briefly considered getting some sort of radio to keep track of the events going on, but that notion was soon arrested; somehow he doubted he would be able to find a local station that put out auditions in English. The language barrier was an awful obstacle for getting anything done. Grabbing a drink from a vending machine was easy enough, but everything else would get Walker in trouble. After all, an American soldier stationed in Japan would be expected to know at least basics of Japanese.

Acquiring some spare clothing wouldn't be much trouble; all he needed to do was to catch another drunken salaryman unawares. He still had enough food to last for a while, to exist. Did he want to exist? That was what he was doing back in Dubai, but now... Walker thought back to what he was thinking yesterday; the dumb notions of retreating into solitude, casting off his old name and becoming someone else entirely. Something told him that wasn't possible; if the cavalry cap girl spoke the truth, someone out there would be looking for him. Plus, it was obvious that she had plans for him as well, even if she let him go for now.

That Mamika would come visit him on her own was the biggest surprise Walker had experienced during his stay in Japan so far. She didn't come over on her own – she was being accompanied by a tall blonde that seemed to favor scowls as her default expression – but she also forwent her flashy costume from last night in favor of what appeared to be a school uniform. Walker could only assume this was a token of goodwill; she did seem to be less likely to have ulterior motives than her cavalry cap superior.

More strangely, she and her blonde friend were carrying some packages with them. "G-good evening, Walker-san. I thought we could help you get settled a little." She said, smiling nervously. The blonde said something too, but it was Japanese as well. Strangely, Walker could have sworn she was speaking with a German accent of all things. "We've found some clothes and, um... some food too."

"Is your boss trying to co-opt me with goodwill?" He muttered, staring at the packages unimpressed. "It might just work out if you get me an automatic translator."

"Ah, well... no, it was my idea." She replied with a sheepish smile. This earned his attention; Walker raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking her to continue. "You were torn back from home due to all this... you must be having a hard time adjusting, so I've figured we could help." The soldier was silent, just staring at the magical girl for a moment before shaking his head.

"Thanks. It's been a while since I've had someone actually be nice to me." The last time would be Falcon-1. They were just doing their job. Hell, he got them to Dubai in the first place; they followed his distress signal and yet... Walker gunned them down to a man. It felt strange thinking about it now, in a safe situation, a different situation. "So is your big scowling friend on that plan too?"

"Oh, Alice-chan came along to help too." Mamika smiled and gestured to the big scowling friend. "She's a great person once you get past the, um, the crusty exterior." Unimpressed silence was Walker's answer and once more the magical girl felt small and threatened despite the fact that the man hadn't even made a hostile notion. "I just figured that... it would be so much easier if we could get along. Me, you, Military Uniform Princess... the other guys."

"So you had a run-in with this other faction?" He watched the two put down boxes, unable to help but wonder where they procured all of this from. Perhaps less than savory methods were used to create the illusion of good intentions. Then again, Mamika there seemed like someone who wouldn't be able to harm a fly. Now, her scowling friend... that might have been an another story.

The pinkette nodded hesitantly. "Yes... we had a fight yesterday and-"

"You exploded someone out of the skyscraper." Mamika looked up sharply at him, almost dropping her box. Jackpot. "I've seen some tidbits from far away."

"I didn't-I didn't mean to! I—"

"I'm not judging. It was a fight. You had to kill an enemy in front of you. It's as simple as that." Walker shrugged indifferently.

"B-but killing is wrong! I didn't... I don't, I don't normally... do such things."

"You don't normally show up in a whole another world." Mamika flinched again, though again the soldier did not notice. "That war you people are having, it sounds like you absolutely have to annihilate the other side. How you do it is not my concern. Which... brings me to another point." Idly, Walker picked up one of the boxes. A set of shirts of various colors on top, followed by some jeans. "You might want to throw that idea of getting along away."

"What? But why? It was all just a misunderstanding and—"

"Something tells me your boss is thinking otherwise. Besides, killing someone in a fiery explosion isn't grounds for friendship with that person's friends."

"...she's not dead." Now that got Walker's attention back to the magical girl as he put the box away and looked at Mamika. This time the blonde scowler got in the way, gently moving the pinkette away and standing in front of the soldier, calling to him in a vaguely threatening tone. Of course, since she was speaking in German-accented Japanese, Walker saw fit to ignore the unknown threat. The magical girl in the back was quick to try and calm Alice down, switching back to her native(?) language. The two conversed for a while, for a moment there was doubt in blonde's voice before she finally stepped back and let Mamika do the talking. "Sorry. Alice-chan j-just worries about me, is all."

"Anyway, um... yeah, Celesia-san is not dead. I guess us Creations are a bit tougher than... um... men like you, Walker-san." _She would be surprised_ , Walker thought grimly as he recalled the various damages and body trauma sustained during his visit to Dubai. "A-and I didn't want to kill her, anyway... I just... I wasn't aware how strong my attacks are."

"How so?"

"From... from what I understand, I... back home, the explosions are, um, smaller... and there's no blood, or all the destruction..." It checked out; Mamika did look like a character from a dumb kids' show, so it was only fitting that her world would be devoid of grittier aspects of violence. Walker couldn't help but think this must have been one hell of an enlightening experience. By comparison, the blonde scowler could come from just about any medium in that blue clothing, though the way she carried herself suggested a large presence. A knight, perhaps. Of course, that did little to narrow down the search. "It all caught me off guard..."

Funny. If he tried, he would be able to find the media these two – as well as that cavalry cap girl and the other faction's members – came from, and learn from them, hopefully.

"It gets easier." He said quietly. "Over time you won't even notice."

"But I don't want it to be easier..." She sounded almost disappointed in him. _Took her long enough_ , Walker thought in grim amusement. "If this is how fighting is, I'd rather we all try and talk it out."

"Wonder if they, or that Princess of yours, feel the same." The flinch seemed to suggest that Walker's assumption wasn't far off from truth. "Anyway... thanks for the help. I'm not planning to move from here for a few more days, if you ever need to try to recruit me again." Mamika's shoulders slumped a little dejectedly, but she replied with a nod.

"Goodnight, Walker-san..." And then she turned to leave, definitely upset about this whole ordeal. Alice didn't join her right away, instead first watching her go and then looking at Walker with open aversion before she joined her pink friend.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

* * *

 **Argh. It's like I said; writing this is proving to be super diffcult. It's the worst kind of feeling; you have some bits and pieces planned out in the middle or even at the end of the story, but first you have to try and lead it there. Walker's character feels a little slippery to me; I can only hope that it is truthful to the source, as are the Re:Creators characters.**

 **No promises for when the new chapter shows up, but I think there will be more Creations appearing. You could say it's all Walker's decision if you want to get meta. Anyway, please feel free to review it and point out any errors or ask any questions you have in mind. :)**


End file.
